


One Man's Heaven

by Namira (Palla)



Category: Bleach
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe, Anal Sex, Bottom Kurosaki Ichigo, Coercion, Dark, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Forced Relationship, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I'm Going to Hell, Ichigo is 16, Kidnapping, M/M, Not Safe Sane and Consensual, Obsession, One-Sided Attraction, One-Sided Relationship, Possessive Behavior, Rape/Non-con Elements, The Author Regrets Everything, The Author Regrets Nothing, Uke Kurosaki Ichigo, straight character forced to have gay sex, whumpage
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-13
Updated: 2019-01-13
Packaged: 2019-10-09 01:57:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17397869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Palla/pseuds/Namira
Summary: Aizen's priorities shift when he unexpectedly becomes infatuated with a teenage boy. Ichigo fails to realize how dangerous he is until it's too late and is soon trapped in a devastating nightmare from which he may never wake.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> First of all, sorry to all the people who want me to continue Bloodlust; I kinda lost steam on that one. I would really love to get back to it someday, but I have no idea if/when that might ever happen. Rest assured, though, that the story I'm posting now is already complete so this time I won't leave you hanging. The remaining chapters will be up by the end of the month.
> 
> Secondly, this story is about a heterosexual male who's forced into a sexual relationship with another man. If that's gonna offend you to the point that you'll feel uncomfortable reading this, I highly suggest that you DON'T READ IT. Especially not the first chapter after the prologue, which came out way dirtier than I intended (lol). The rest of the story will not be so explicit, for better or for worse.
> 
> There's a bit of foreshadowing in this story that won't be explored until the sequel(s), which I may or may not get around to writing. I'll do my best but can make no promises.

**July 27, 1991**

_"I do hope you're not thinking of jumping in."_

_"What's it to you?"_

_"As a concerned citizen, I would be obliged to stop you. It would be a terrible waste if a man as beautiful as yourself were to die in such a senseless way."_

*** 

When Sousuke was young he'd been obsessed with the idea of immortality. To live forever, never aging, never becoming ill or going senile ... why, the potential of such a person would be almost limitless, he'd thought. There were so many things he wanted to do, so many plans to put into motion, and the lifespan of a normal human wasn't nearly long enough for him to accomplish it all. Sousuke was a man who feared very little, but this single thought disturbed him above all others. 

He was also a man who never gave up when he really wanted something, even if that thing seemed wholly out of reach and unobtainable. So he'd studied the problem, and learned all he could, and when he could learn no more he'd found a partner who could help him advance beyond what was written in any textbook. 

It was this man he'd gone to see on the day that would prove to be more significant than any other. It was one of those rare occasions where Sousuke was unable to get what he wanted no matter which angle of attack he chose. And every day for all the years that followed, he was grateful for this, because his life would never have taken the course it did had it not been for that exact sequence of events. 

He was 53 at the time, yet he barely looked a day over 30. Because the research that he and his partner had poured their souls into had been successful beyond even Sousuke's expectations, and they themselves had been some of the earliest test subjects. It was only after they'd perfected the formula that the trouble had started. 

He'd first been drawn to the man for his tenacity and agile mind, traits that he and Sousuke both shared. But it had become apparent that the two had little else in common, and this became problematic when it came time to decide what to do with the miracle they'd created. His partner had imagined a world where no one would feel the ravages of illness or age, and had wanted to share the serum freely. Sousuke had pointed out, wisely he thought, that such a world would be unsustainable and become massively overpopulated within a handful of generations. There were other reasons, of course, but that was the one he'd given his partner when he'd argued that they must keep the serum's existence a secret from all but their most trusted associates. 

They had fought long and hard about this but ultimately, Sousuke had gotten his way and successfully coerced his partner into keeping his silence. Shortly thereafter, they'd parted ways and the other man had vowed to never work with him again. 

Sousuke's interest in science had waned after that, but he'd never given up on it entirely. He'd found other men to aid him in his projects, clever men who feared him too much to ever cross him, but none had ever come close to matching his former partner's brilliance. And so it was that decades later he'd found himself reaching out to the man once more to offer him a job in his organization. They would not work together, this time, for in the years since they'd parted he'd poured his energy into building a massive empire that encompassed many businesses and industries. Running this empire took up too much of his attention for him to spend time in a lab, so it had been years since he'd directly involved himself in any of the projects he oversaw. But this assurance was not enough for his former partner, who had come to reject him and his ambitions so deeply that he wanted no part in anything Sousuke had his fingers in. 

He'd tried every tactic at his disposal and offered the man everything he could think of, but nothing had been enough to sway him. And so it was that Sousuke found himself passing though that unremarkable neighborhood in that unremarkable town on what he'd expected would be an unremarkable day. He'd made space in his busy schedule to personally come to meet with his former partner at the tiny home where he'd inexplicably chosen to dwell in obscurity, to try one final time to convince the man to come work for him. 

His offer had been rejected again, and rather rudely at that. Sousuke had returned to his sleek black limo simmering with irritation, and had found himself gazing out the window contemplatively as he tried to work out his next move. 

The skies had been dark that day and heavy with the promise of rain, complimenting the stormy bent of his mood. Everything outside the window looked dull and grey, lifeless and unappealing. 

The boy he'd glimpsed standing by the riverbank, however, was not. 

He was a splash of colour that didn't fit in with the otherwise dreary scenery, and it was for this reason, perhaps, that he'd ordered his driver to stop the car. Sousuke had no other explanation for the impulse, for it was very unlike him to go out of his way to speak to a stranger with no particular purpose in mind. Later on he would muse that it must have been fate, if one were to believe in such a thing. 

The boy had bright orange hair that was short and spiky in front but grew well past his shoulders in the back. He was slender, lightly muscled, and shorter than Sousuke by several inches, but something about the way he held himself made him suspect that he was stronger than he looked. The stranger turned to face him as he approached and he saw that the lovely young man's cheeks were lightly flushed and wet with tears. 

His eyes were slightly puffy and red-rimmed from crying, but they were a gorgeous shade of amber and held such deep pain that the heart of any normal man would have ached with sympathy. 

But sympathy was not an emotion that came to Sousuke easily, or at all, perhaps. He'd never experienced sorrow like that himself, and had nothing to relate it to. 

Instead, he only noticed the boy's beauty, and was struck by how exquisite he looked with tears streaming down his face. 

He was instantly captivated. 

*** 

_"I'm not looking to jump. Just ... remembering the past."_

_"Something truly dreadful must have happened, to cause you such pain. Would you like to talk about it?"_

_"No offense, but I don't really feel like talking right now. And I'm not into guys, if that's what you're after."_

*** 

Sousuke had been rejected twice that day, in the end - first by his former partner, and then by the lovely young man he'd encountered. He ended up putting the first problem on the back burner because he'd been unable to prevent his thoughts from returning to the pretty stranger time and time again and could not get him out of his head. He knew nothing about this boy and had barely spoken to him, yet he couldn't remember the last time he'd felt so intrigued. 

So he'd studied the problem, and learned all he could, and when he could learn no more he approached the boy again, and then a third time. Sousuke was a handsome man who could be very charming when he wished to be, and he commanded a level of wealth and power that most people found irresistible. Whatever the boy's protests, he was confident they could be overcome. Everyone had a price, after all; he just needed to offer the right currency. 

But despite his best efforts, the boy had refused him again, and then a third time. Nothing Sousuke offered could tempt him, and his rejections became blunter and more emphatic each time he was approached. 

At this point, Sousuke had begun to grow rather frustrated and more than a little impatient. The spark of passion the boy had ignited in him was swiftly becoming a mighty wildfire that scorched the depths of his very soul, and he'd never felt anything remotely like it. He had not understood these strange new feelings that were besieging him; all he knew was that he needed to satisfy his craving before it drove him to madness. 

Just one night, that was all he'd wanted. One night to indulge his curiosity, and the inferno raging inside of him would surely cool. His interest would wane once he got what he wanted and he'd be able to return his attention to where it belonged, on his businesses and other ventures. 

Luckily, Sousuke's position in the world meant he had _other_ means of getting what he wanted, if he chose to use them. There would be consequences, perhaps, but it was nothing he couldn't manage. His influence extended deeply into the criminal underworld, so he knew how to be discreet when doing business on the wrong side of the law. And he knew how to get away with it. 

This time, he didn't bother to approach the young man himself. Instead, he sent two of his employees to do it for him, men who were experienced in such matters and could be trusted to perform their task competently. It was as easy as ordering room service, and the boy was delivered to his door just hours after the order had been issued. He was bound hand and foot and looked a little groggy from the chloroform, but when he saw Sousuke waiting for him his eyes lit up with fury so intense that it nearly rivaled the heat of Sousuke's desire. And beneath that, fear, which excited him in a way that was wholly unexpected. 

He was captivated all over again ... and this time, the lovely young man would not be given the option of rejecting his advances. 

He'd see what pleasures the boy could offer, and would let him go only when he was completely satisfied and his passions had run their course. 


	2. Chapter 2

_One man's nightmare is another man's dream_  
_One silent person in another man's scheme_  
_One man's will can leave the rest with no control_  
_The boy was always far too young_  
_The man was much too old_  
_[...]_  
_One man's Heaven is another man's Hell._  


- **One Man's Poison** by Rupert Hine 

*** 

**August 11, 1991**

Ichigo's head was pounding, his wrists felt chafed, and he'd never been more scared in his life. He didn't know where he was or how long he'd been unconscious or what he could possibly have done to attract this much attention from a man who clearly had no need to resort to abduction to find someone to fill his bed. All he knew was that he was in terrible danger, and he hated Aizen Sousuke more than anyone he'd ever met. 

He'd _thought_ that he hated the thugs who'd murdered his mother in cold blood when he was six years old. She'd defended him fiercely and had been shot for her efforts, and though he'd been standing right next to her he'd been utterly powerless to stop it from happening. But he'd never known the identity of the lowlifes who'd extinguished her life so carelessly, so that hatred had always been rather abstract and undirected. _This_ hatred was fresher, and a lot more personal. 

Every year, on the anniversary of his mother's death, he went to the riverbank where she'd died to leave some flowers and send her his prayers. It was the only time he really allowed himself to grieve ... and this _stranger_ , Aizen Sousuke, had the gall to not only intrude on his grief but to hit on him while he was at it. Which was not only irritating but creepy as hell since that man was _way_ too old to be hitting on teenage boys. 

Ichigo had made himself very clear, he'd thought. Even if Aizen hadn't been so much older and hadn't ticked him off so much, he just wasn't interested in men that way, period. But it seemed that the man didn't respond well to the word "no", for he'd continued to pursue him despite being repeatedly told to fuck off. 

There was something absurd about being stalked by a guy who rode around in a limo, but there was nothing funny about it. He'd been feeling increasingly harassed, and had finally threatened to take the matter up with the police last time he'd been approached. The man had thankfully backed off at that point, and Ichigo thought that would be the end of it ... but he was wrong, terribly so. Three days later he'd been walking home from a gathering with his friends when someone had snuck up behind him and pressed a rag soaked with chloroform over his nose and mouth. That was the last thing he remembered before waking up to find himself bound and gagged and being carried over someone's shoulder like a sack of potatoes. 

Now he was lying on the floor of an apartment whose monthly rent was probably more than what his family spent on food in a year, and that bastard was looking down at him with a hungry expression that terrified him to his very core. 

There was no doubt in his mind that if he didn't find a way to get himself out of this, and _fast_ , that piece of shit was going to rape him. 

"I'm going to untie you," Aizen said once his goons had been dismissed and the door closed and locked. "But before I do, I want you to know that this room is soundproofed and mine is the only apartment on the entire floor. There are two men waiting just outside who've been ordered to shoot you if you try to leave, and I'll kill you myself if you're foolish enough to try and attack me." 

Aizen was the shadiest person he'd ever met, but in this case he believed every word. There had only been one door in the hall that led out from the elevator, and in a place this fancy soundproofing was probably standard. The man was also holding a gun, and he looked like he knew how to use it. 

"Do we have an understanding?" 

Ichigo nodded stiffly, and Aizen slid the gun into a holster at his waist before crouching down to remove the gag. 

_Wait for him to untie you, get the gun, and then shoot every asshole who gets in your way until you get the fuck out of here,_ Ichigo thought. It wasn't a great plan, but it was the only one he could come up with at the moment. 

Aizen untied his legs first and then rolled him onto his stomach to untie his hands. Ichigo's muscles tensed when he felt the ropes coming loose, but his hopes were dashed when the man pressed the barrel of the gun against the back of his head and undid the last knot one-handed. 

Ichigo got to his feet and turned to face the imposing brunet who was now standing a safe distance away with the gun pointed at him. He already knew what it would sound like when it was fired, and deep within the recesses of his mind he heard the echo of his mother's screams mingling with a child's despairing pleas and sobs. 

"I've asked you politely several times now, and each time you've denied me," Aizen began, snapping him back to reality. "So now, I'm telling you: have dinner with me. We'll share a meal and get to know each other a little better, and if you behave yourself I might be persuaded to let you go afterward." 

"And if I say 'no way in hell'?" 

"Then we'll skip the dinner and move straight to the _second_ part of our evening," he said suggestively. 

Ichigo's blood froze in his veins in response to the implication, but it was no less than he'd expected. "Fine then, you bastard," he replied, softly but with an undercurrent of absolute loathing. " _Let's have dinner._ " Aizen looked infuriatingly satisfied by his response, and it was only his sense of self preservation that held him back from lunging at the piece of shit and punching his face in. 

The layout of the apartment was open concept for the most part, and when he turned at a gesture from Aizen he saw that there was a small dining area on the other side of the room. The table was already set with two plates of food on opposite ends. Seeing no other alternative, he walked over to it and reluctantly took a seat. Aizen followed and sat across from him before setting the gun down next to his plate. 

Every instinct Ichigo had was screaming at him to lunge across the table and grab the gun. But the table was just large enough that he wouldn't be able to reach the other side in one motion, and certainly not before Aizen could pick it back up and pull the trigger. He glared at the gun in frustration, and when he looked back up he saw the asshole smirking at him with a knowing expression. 

The following 20 minutes were undoubtedly the strangest and most stressful that Ichigo had ever experienced. Aizen made small talk like they were on a fucking date while Ichigo gave one word answers and picked at his food. The knife he was using to cut his steak looked sharp enough to do some damage, and he wondered idly if he could throw it at the older man and stick him in the chest like they did in the movies. This was pretty much the worst hell he could imagine, and yet the real danger hadn't even started yet. Soon they would finish eating, and then something far more terrible would happen. 

The awkward conversation wound to a close once Aizen had finished the last bite of his meal. "You've barely touched your food," he said, almost teasingly. "Was it not to your liking?" 

Ichigo thought about asking for more time to finish, but knew that he'd only be delaying the inevitable. So instead he said, "I'm not very hungry." 

Aizen looked unsurprised by this and accepted it with a nod. Then he picked up the gun again. 

The walls were plate glass windows on two sides of the apartment, and the door to the hall was set in the third. The last wall had a carved wooden door in the center and smaller doors to either side. Aizen pointed at the door in the middle and said, "I want you to open that door and go inside. You will do this _slowly_ and you will not make any sudden movements. If you attack me or try to run, I will not hesitate to shoot you." 

Heart pounding in his ears, Ichigo did as he'd been instructed. He felt like he was digging his own grave, or walking to his execution perhaps. 

Aizen followed him into the dimly lit bedroom, and the door shut behind them with a deafening click. 

"Now, then," the creep said without any further preamble, "take off your clothes. All of them." 

Panic was truly taking hold of him now, quietly washing over him and leaving cold sweat and trembling limbs in its wake. "Please don't do this," he said quietly. "I'll do anything you want, but I can't do _that_." 

"You don't have a choice." Aizen's tone was unyielding and without the slightest hint of mercy. "Take off your clothes, or I will shoot you in the leg and do it for you." 

Ichigo shut his eyes and took a deep breath that did absolutely nothing to help him calm. Then, swallowing against a sudden rush of nausea, he gripped the hem of his t-shirt and pulled it off. 

He didn't look at Aizen while he undressed, fearing what dark intentions he might read on the older man's face. He hesitated when it came time to pull his pants down, and again when he was left in just his boxers. Each time, Aizen seemed to get a little more impatient as he urged him to continue. 

"There's a pair of handcuffs lying on the bed. Thread them through the headboard and put them on." 

This was the moment, he realized. This was his last chance to decide: would he rather get raped or would he prefer to die? He chanced a look up at Aizen's face and instantly regretted it, overwhelmed by the hunger he saw there and the staggering intensity of his lust. Abruptly he felt a thousand times more exposed, and what little courage that had remained to him was overcome by icy fear and an awareness of how utterly powerless he was to stop this from happening. 

He crawled onto the bed and put the handcuffs on. He wasn't brave enough to do anything else. 

He stared at the canopy of the four poster bed and tried not to hyperventilate as Aizen stripped his own clothing off in his peripheral vision. 

Then the bed was dipping with another's weight and eager hands were pulling his legs apart, and Aizen wasn't holding the gun anymore but it didn't make a difference at this point. He reached out a hand to thread his fingers through Ichigo's hair, ignoring the way he flinched at his touch, and bent down until their faces were just inches apart. 

Ichigo thought he might kiss him then, but he didn't. He just looked into his eyes and let him see that terrible hunger, and then he very gently brushed his thumb over Ichigo's cheek. It was wet, he noticed, shame increasing two-fold at the realization that he'd started crying. 

" _Please_ ," he begged, one more time, even knowing that it was futile. 

Aizen's pupils dilated and he took a deep breath, slowly and almost shakily. Then he broke eye contact and pulled Ichigo's head slightly to the side so he could lower his face to the juncture between neck and jaw. 

Ichigo heard him inhale deeply, as if memorizing his scent. An agile tongue flicked out to taste him and draw a line up the length of his throat. 

They stayed like that for some time, Ichigo trembling and crying silently while the older man licked, sucked, and nipped at his bare throat and shoulder. After a while he started working his way down and the hand that had been fisted in his hair released him to explore his body's angles and subtle curves. Suction on one nipple and and too-rough fingers on the other forced them to harden and left them bruised and aching. 

The man spent an exorbitant amount of time worshiping his flat stomach and sensitive navel and nipping at his vulnerable inner thighs. Then he was sitting up again and looking down at Ichigo from his position kneeling between slender legs that had gone weak with terror. He ran his hands down Ichigo's sides once more, pushed his legs further apart, and then set about groping his ass so thoroughly that he'd probably leave handprints there. Thumbs dug into the inside of each cheek and pulled them apart almost painfully, exposing his defenseless hole. 

The head of Aizen's cock, huge and unmistakable, felt shockingly warm when it pressed against sensitive skin. It was wet and slick, and Ichigo wondered distantly when the man had lubed himself up. Unfortunately, it seemed that the bastard had no intention of preparing him as well, for the cock started nudging at his hole without any further preamble. Aizen started to press inside, and his hole began burning fiercely as it was forced to stretch wider than he would have thought possible. Just when he thought he could take no more and would be torn asunder, the head popped inside and he felt the ring of his anus tighten behind it. Trembling uncontrollably, he let out a broken sob. 

"You're tight," Aizen murmured, sounding almost dazed. It was such a pointless observation that Ichigo wanted to scream. 

And then the cock was pushing in again, little by little, occasionally sliding out just a bit before thrusting back in with renewed enthusiasm. Despite the lube, it was hard going and his ass was clinging to Aizen's cock like a latex glove that was several sizes too small. He was certain that he was tearing. 

Ichigo kept praying to feel the larger man's balls press against his ass, but his length seemed unending and continued pushing into him until he felt sure that it had to be in his stomach. When at last it was fully sheathed, it had gone alarmingly deep and was causing him such intense pain that he wished he'd chosen death instead. 

"It hurts," he choked out. Aizen ran a hand down his side as if trying to soothe him, then gripped his hips with both hands so tightly that he was sure to leave bruises. 

He watched Ichigo's face intently as he started to thrust. 

The scream that had been building inside of him was released at last, though it was strangled with agony and mingled with a desperate sob. It was too fast, too soon, too _big_ , and this was how he was losing his virginity and he was so fucking unprepared for this in every possible way. He might have started begging again if he'd been capable of speech, but all that could pass his lips in that moment were sharp cries of pain and mangled whimpers. 

It may have been only minutes before Aizen started breathing harder and thrusting faster and more roughly, but it felt like an eternity. The man's cock swelled just a little larger, heightening his agony to a level that had previously been unimaginable, and then he was thrusting back in to the root and just a little farther, sinking as deep as he could possibly get before he began to cum. 

The nausea returned in force when he felt his guts being flooded by an absurd quantity of semen, so hot that he could _feel_ it gushing into him and filling him up. Aizen's cock continued twitching inside of him for well over a minute, spilling more cum into him each time until he felt swollen with it. 

At last it was over, and Aizen all but collapsed onto him with forearms braced to either side of his head. He was panting so raggedly that it almost covered the sound of the broken sobs Ichigo was unable to hold back, even as the cock inside him began to soften and his pain started easing in infinitesimal increments. 

Once Aizen got his breath back he pressed the kiss to Ichigo's mouth that he'd been expecting earlier, gently at first but it quickly deepened into a feral expression of lust. Ichigo was in such a state that it didn't even occur to him to bite when Aizen's tongue slipped into his mouth, and by the time he pulled back they were both panting for air once more. 

"I didn't know it could be like that," Aizen whispered against his lips. Ichigo had no clue what that meant, but quickly dismissed it as unimportant when the larger man's cock twitched inside him with renewed interest. 

He shook his head in denial, sobbing, "Please don't, you _can't_ , fuck, _please_ , not again-" and tugging futilely at the place where his wrists were secured to the headboard. Aizen licked the side of his face and gave an experimental thrust, just a little one, but he was so raw and over-sensitized that the hardening cock felt like it was covered in sandpaper. 

The night passed in a blur after that, Aizen taking him over and over again long past the point where any normal man would have collapsed from exhaustion. By the time he was finally sated, Ichigo was only half-conscious and lost to a haze of impossible agony. He'd been screaming for so long that his voice was nearly gone, but he still managed a little whimper as the limp but still very sizable length of Aizen's cock was pulled from his body. Cum followed its exit from deep inside and stung the abraided flesh. 

He hoped that the man would finally be done with him then and leave him be, but soon there were fingers sliding through the fluid gushing from his ass to press lightly against the rim of his swollen hole. He heard Aizen muse that perhaps he'd been a little too rough - and wasn't that the fucking understatement of the year - and then he was gone, and no one was touching him anymore, but the relief he felt was tempered by lingering pain and how indescribably dirty he felt with that man's cum sloshing around inside of him. 

He drifted in and out of consciousness for a while, peripherally aware when Aizen left the room at one point and then returned with a second person. That person touched him too, but these touches were at least quite clinical in nature and soon went away. 

He heard the stranger remark that he'd need stitches, but Aizen suggested something different instead with phrases that made no sense to him and drifted through his mind without order or understanding. He felt something sharp pinch his arm and something cool rush into his veins. 

His last thought before he lost consciousness for good was that he hoped he would never wake. 


End file.
